


Stay

by paulmcfartney



Series: McLennon Drabbles [2]
Category: McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles
Genre: Beatles Slash, Hamburg, M/M, McLennon, i'm really not diggin his attitude in this one lads, paul is being a dumb bitch tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulmcfartney/pseuds/paulmcfartney
Summary: req: "Paul and John get into an argument one night after a show in Hamburg about how both of them are being assholes and then one of them snaps and says 'because I'm in love with you, you daft git!' "





	Stay

It was particularly brisk in Hamburg that night, the wind howling relentlessly outside of the club they’d been staying in. The others were out somewhere, drinking probably, which left John and Paul laid up together in the tiny bed shoved in the corner of the small room. Paul hadn’t been feeling well, and wasn’t anywhere near being up to going out after their grueling five hour set. John figured that he might as well stay back with him to make sure he’s alright and keep him company. He didn’t really feel like going out either, especially since Paul hadn’t been feeling up to it, thinking that it wasn’t really worth it if he didn’t get to giggle and drink beside his best mate, the boy that graced him with the delicate brush of his lips only in his dreams.

It was painful, seeing him ravish and lust after other women when John felt like he was the only one that could give him the love that he deserved. But all that pent up jealousy didn’t matter now, as he was curled up under the thin sheet, shivering like mad. John would genuinely give anything and everything he owned to be able to stop the tremors coursing through him with the warmth of his arms. He could almost imagine it, inching his hands around Paul’s naked torso and pulling him close to his chest. Unfortunately, John had to settle for stroking his ginger fingers through the boy’s hair. It was the least he could do, sit down beside him and let him ride this sick spell out. They hadn’t had nearly enough money to get medication for him, so he’d just have to tough it out.

Paul coughed into his clenched fist and flopped his sweaty head back onto the almost non-existent cushion of the pillow behind him, rubbing his tired eyes with the same hand. “Jesus, how could I have gotten so bad?” he groaned, his voice scratchy and raw from the continuous singing and screaming that’d went on for the past five hours. John stroked the dark hair out of his eyes and back above his forehead, smiling gently down at him. “You probably caught it from one of the birds, mate,” he replied sympathetically, his thumb lingering above his damp brow. “It happens to everyone, mate. Nobody’s immortal.”

Paul drew a blank stare, eyes plastered to the rotting wooden ceiling of their small room. John would’ve given anything to know what was running through the boy’s mind, what was making his eyes grow so incredibly worried that he couldn’t respond to him. Paul let out a shaky sigh and shifted his hips so that they faced John, who was sat up on the squeaking mattress.

“Sometimes I think about what my life would’ve been like if I never came here,” Paul uttered, sounding genuinely disappointed in his own words, but spilling exactly what he was thinking. John was shocked, so incredibly appalled that Paul would even suggest something like that. His thoughts were interrupted when the boy continued below him. “I just don’t feel like we’re getting anywhere, y'know. Like we’re not making any progress towards bein’ famous or anythin’.”

John was at a complete loss for words, not knowing what to say in response to his confession. They weren’t making enough money as they would’ve liked, but they were in fact making progress toward their goal. Paul’s eyes were glossed over, and he looked like he was about to cry. John’s heart tugged in his chest, affected by Paul’s weak state and shocking words. He himself felt like he was about to cry too, but he kept it together for the sake of Paul.

“We’re makin’ plenty of progress, son. I don’t know why you’d think that,” John whispered gently, eyes never straying from the younger boy’s. “There’s always gonna be rough patches, but we’ll always find our way through them.” Paul shook his head, whimpering and turning his back to John in slight anger.

John was slightly hurt that Paul was acting like this. He wasn’t willing to argue with him, but he was sure acting like he had one up his sleeve. “Come on, mate. You’re just tired, get some bloody rest,” John almost huffed, patting him on the back and standing up from the screeching mattress. The boy’s head whipped around so quickly that John couldn’t even tell that he had tears streaming down his face at first. “I’m not ‘just tired,’ John. Fuck, I’ve been holding this in for such a long time. I guess now’s the time we’re gonna talk about it.”

John was baffled by Paul’s sudden outburst, the tiny spark in his chest quickly igniting to light a raging fire of anger. Eyebrows furrowed, he planted himself back on the mattress across from the younger boy, who had just sat up to face him. “I’ve thought about leavin’,” Paul rasped bluntly, eyes glued to the stained sheet that covered his legs.

John’s poor heart felt like it’d been stabbed by a knife, but he tried to ignore it with the anger spreading through him. He’d really thought about going back home, hadn’t he? “Christ, you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” John marvelled, in complete disbelief that Paul out of all people was the first one to voice his concern about their situation. “That’s such a Paul thing to do, y'know. It’s something only you would do. Does your dad have something to do about this? ‘Cos if he does, I can tell you right now that it wouldn’t come to me as shocking,” John practically sneered, running a hand through his sweaty locks and tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

Paul’s eyebrows creased together in astonishment that John would say something like that, something so fucking shallow. He squinted his round, doe eyes and leaned into John to give him another piece of his mind. “For your information, Lennon, da’ has nothing to do with this, so don’t you even dare bring him into this,” he spat, the tears falling down his cheeks even more so than before. “Sorry for thinking that, but I don’t know if I can keep up livin’ like this everyday of my fuckin’ life. It’s goddamn pathetic even, we live in the back room of a brothel for God’s sake.” After a tense pause, Paul noticed the tears that had begun to fall over the other boy’s cheeks, dripping off his angular jaw one after the other. “You’re really not gonna admit that our situation’s not dire, are you?”

John didn’t know what to say. He didn’t really know whether or not he wanted to say anything in response to Paul’s venomous words. They sat in silence for a moment, thoughts of his life without the other boy running relentlessly through John’s head. He couldn’t even picture it properly, it being much too bleak to even think about. God, a world without Paul would be a world without light in John’s eyes. There wouldn’t be a single reason to even continue in Hamburg if the younger boy left.

“What?” Paul egged him on even further. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ say that I should stay for the band, because if we all stay here, it’ll go even more to shit than it already is.”

John couldn’t keep his mouth shut, like he was possessed by some invisible force. He had to speak his mind or else it’d feel like it was eating him alive. “Paulie, you can’t–you can’t just up and leave,” he croaked, his already weak voice faltering at his own words. “Christ, I sound so fuckin’ desperate.” John rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted, not really knowing how to continue.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay then, because at this point, there’s not much money, we live behind a shithole of a club, and we play for five hours every damn night.” Paul’s eyes were nearly bulging out of his head at the effort that it took to force the words out of his mouth. He could feel the tickle in his throat from the strain he’d put on his voice.

“Paul, come on now,” John begged, almost giving up on him. God, why’d he have to be so vicious with him sometimes? John would occasionally think that Paul genuinely didn’t like him as much as he did before. He’d know that he wasn’t being serious when Paul would give him that same warm, loving look after they’d have a row. John cursed himself for putting that wretched thought into his mind.

Against his will, John’s heart was swelling with his undying love for the boy in front of him. There was nothing really that he could do but be honest, as painful and terrifying that it was. But John knew exactly what he had to do, and blurted it out, surprising himself even.

“Christ Paul, because I fuckin’ love you! I am so deeply in love with your arse that it’s even painful sometimes! And Jesus, if you went back to Liverpool there’d be nothing left for me here, there’d be absolutely no point to staying because you wouldn’t me singing and fuckin’ about beside me. You mean so much to me, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’d honestly die if I wouldn’t get to see you and touch you everyday. So fuck, if you’re looking for a valid reason to stay, it’s me.” At this point, John was choking through his tears to even breathe, his eyes all puffy and red with emotion.

Paul was indifferent, but was calmed down and silent in thought. Did he mean–no, he couldn’t, could he? “John,” he quivered, placing a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder. “You do mean as friends, right?” His voice was steady and unsure, as if he were afraid of his friend’s answer.

John sniffled, wiping the fresh tears that had fallen from his eyes, and lifted his gaze to the alluring eyes of the boy in front of him. Sighing, he muttered, “I’m really gonna fuckin’ regret this later on,” and leaned in to place his lips gently on Paul’s. A hand drifted to the boy’s rounded cheek to pull him impossibly closer, his nervous fingers trembling terribly against Paul’s heated skin. God, he’d craved this moment for so long, but he was upset that it had happened under these circumstances. Tears fell over John’s cheeks as his lips moved against Paul’s frozen ones, and when he realized that the boy wasn’t kissing back, he pulled from him slowly, in disbelief that he’d really just done that.

John wouldn’t blame Paul for hating him or wanting to leave, especially after he’d kissed him unexpectedly in a sudden fit of strong emotion. He couldn’t bring himself to look Paul in the eye, feeling terribly ashamed of what he’d just done and regretting it instantly. “I’m sorry,” John rasped, sniffing again and standing up from his seat on the bed. Shockingly, Paul took John’s hand and squeezed it once, letting his thumb roam over his bony knuckles.

It was dead silent, which was strange considering where they were living. Paul pulled John back down to the mattress and wrapped his arms around his torso, bringing him close to his body. Near sobs racked at John’s body and Paul ran a steady hand up and down his back, trying his best to soothe him. The last time he’d seen the boy almost this upset was when Julia died, and it hadn’t even been as bad as this.

“I know that you don’t feel the same, it’s alright. I just–I just thought–” “Shh,” Paul interrupted suddenly, placing a light, feathery kiss on John’s stubbled jaw to shut him up. “I’ll stay, I’ll stay. J-Just shush, okay?” They sat there, wrapped in the tangle of each other’s arms for the rest of the night, neither saying a word until they drifted off into a much needed sleep.


End file.
